A Little Problem With Rats
by sciencegeek51
Summary: I really enjoyed Hell House, and Dean's reaction to the rats in the cellar was so much like Indiana Jones and snakes that I just roared. So what could have caused such a response? The usual disclaimer for the fact that I own little and owe all to Kripke..
1. Chapter 1

Title: Rats

Author: sciencegeek51

Rating: T

Summary: Tag to Hell House, just needed to explore Dean's reaction to the rats down in the root cellar.

Disclaimer: We all know that Kripke owns all (even if the Warner megacorp holds the copyrights), but he didn't say the boys couldn't come out and play. Oh yeah, it's only fair to warn you all that I only have a glimmer of where this one is going... so there'll likely be long waits between chapters. I say this because I had the whole outline of my last story back in May '07 and only just finished it this month. Of course, a review or two might spur me into quicker action. How subtle was that?????

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Several hours drive after leaving the fun town of Richardson, Texas found the Winchester brothers still on the open road headed north. Riding shotgun, Sam stretched out as best he could, his long frame feeling a bit cramped from the prolonged inactivity.

He glanced over to his brother who sat relaxed behind the wheel, tapping away in time to the music blaring from the tape deck. All was looking good in Dean's world and Sam felt a smile coming on himself. One more supernatural threat taken care of, only marred by the fact that they had failed to protect that poor high school girl from the tulpa. But at least they managed to neutralize the thing before anyone else suffered. And thank god that the stupid prank war was finally over... at least for now.

Dean's joking threat of resuming again was just empty noise. Sam knew that they were both equally glad to be at peace with each other; though crammed together as they were in the Impala for days on end would once again trigger some kind of juvenile behavior on both their parts if they couldn't find some more constructive outlet for their pent up energy.

The sudden thought of the two clueless, paranormal wannabees headed for Los Angeles in their booby trapped vehicle brought out a full on grin as he thought about the fish Dean had placed under their back seat. He could just imagine the aroma as they ripened, and his own role in convincing the duo that they had gotten their book and movie deal was enough to make him chuckle out loud. Throwing the roleplaying option into the "deal" had been a last minute inspiration prompted by memories of some the geekier class mates from his freshman dorm and their obsession with gaming at all hours of the day and night. It had been a well played scam and, despite his frequent snipes about their lack of legitimate income, he could appreciate the satisfaction Dean might feel when he was hustling some local yokels at pool or poker. Sam stretched back in his seat, hands behind his head. Yes, life was good.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Sam was startled from his reverie. "Uh? Oh. Just thinking about ... you know... the tulpa and all... "

"Yeah, me too. Man, I'd love to be there when our ghost busting hellhounds get to LA. Once they finish fumigating their car, that is." The smile on Dean's face got bigger and bigger. No doubt about it, life was very, very good.

Grinning, Sam wondered just where the hell Dean had found the fish; but then how he had managed to get his hands on whatever the hell it was that he had put into his boxers was just further testament to Dean's ability to improvise. Not to mention Dean's solution to the tulpa problem. Actually, both solutions. It wasn't Dean's fault that the Hellhound's server had crashed and screwed up his first plan. Guess they should have double checked the website before heading over to the old farmhouse, instead of assuming that everything had gone along just fine. Since when did things ever go smoothly for the Winchester clan anyway? Now that Sam wasn't completely pissed off with his brother, he was able to appreciate the fact that while he had figured out that what was going on with Mordechai was actually a tulpa rather than a restless spirit, it was Dean who had come up with the way to put an end to it.

Further reflection upon the case revealed an uncomfortable truth. That whole Hell House fiasco was the result of a practical joke gone horribly wrong. Sam remembered the haunted look on Craig's face as he admitted to staging the prank with his cousin's help. It was her use of the Tibetan meditation symbol coupled with it being displayed on the Hellhound's website that , in essence, "created" the tulpa and started its brief reign of terror. Sam resolved to monitor the site and make sure that interest in Mordachai Murdoch died down and the tulpa stayed dormant, or whatever. He'd do his best to make sure that Dean's solution became permanent.

The miles kept speeding by and the two brothers enjoyed the ride, each immersed in their thoughts.

Sam had dozed off for awhile, despite Dean's music, but woke as the Impala pulled off the road and into the rest stop parking area. '_Oh great_', he thought, '_more roadside junk food._' It constantly amazed him how Dean could cope with the steady diet, if it was even deserving of the term, of grease and sugar served up along the various roads they traveled. Of course, until he'd gone to Stanford and been invited over to friend's homes for holiday visits, the closest Sam had come to balanced meals was what was served in school cafeterias and the occasional family style restaurants that Dad would take them to when money wasn't tight.

"Dude... ready for a bite to eat? 'Cause I'm up for it."

"I guess, but this the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, I needed a break, the car needs gas and this is all that was available. Stop being such a princess.", was Dean's grumbled response. "Keep it up and you can take over filling the tank."

Not wanting to upset the comfortable rapport they had enjoyed so far, Sam nodded his assent and followed Dean into the gas stop's quick mart-cum-eatery, known as 'Bob's Eat & Go' according to the hand painted sign nailed above the door, and checked out their limited offering of microwavable items. Three tall stools were arranged around a single round table in the corner next to the counter for any patron who chose not to eat in their vehicle.

The counter clerk had poured their coffees and rung up their orders when Sam's bladder let him know it was time to be emptied. The place wasn't the worst dump they had ever stopped at, but it was pretty grungy and Sam hoped the sole john wasn't in the same shape. And it wasn't. It was worse. Sam wondered how it was that these places weren't closed down by the local health department. Besides not having seen a good mopping for a month of Sundays, the floor had a baited mouse trap in three corners. The fourth corner's trap held a long dead and very ripe mouse. _Yeeesh._ Sam finished up and got out of there before the smell totally killed his appetite.

Dean had taken one of the stools by the counter and was on his second cheeseburger by the time Sam joined him there. Surprisingly, the coffee was pretty good and Dean had gone back for the super sized travel mug special, deciding that it was just the ticket for the drive ahead. Eating his "nuked" burrito that wasn't too bad once it was smothered with enough onions and salsa, Sam smiled at his brother as he pictured the look on Dean's face when it came his turn to answer nature's call. '_Well_', he thought, '_it's not technically a prank_'. Of course, he knew darn well that Dean would not be in the mood to appreciate that fine distinction. The john had been bad enough on an empty stomach.

"Hey, Dean. Uh. That bathroom is pretty rank. Uh... just letting you know."

Dean gave his brother a penetrating stare and asked, "As in toxic waste dump or just a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Ah, more like what the Hellhoundmobile must be like right about now."

"Great." Dean muttered, shifting his stare first from Sam to over at the offending bathroom door and then down to his drink. He glanced up from his coffee, "Thanks for the warning."

Sam shrugged, "No problem, dude." It had been the right move to preserve the current state of peace between them. Sam still had his issues with Dean, especially when in his "older brother" or "Dad's obedient soldier" mode, but there had been a special bond between himself and Dean when they were kids; and Sam was surprised at how much he missed it as he watched his brother finish his first cup of coffee while eying the restroom door before getting up and tackling this new challenge head on.

Sam watched as Dean disappeared into the restroom and he reflected further on the past few hours. Things were going good right now ... there was a sense of easiness between them now that had been missing throughout most of this "road trip" they were on. An easiness that harkened back to the rapport they once shared as kids. The Winchester brothers... Sam and Dean... together against the world, or so it seemed at the time. It felt good, but Sam knew that it wouldn't last. He and Dean were such different people; it was just a matter of time before things fell apart again. Sam resolved to just sit back and enjoy it while it lasted.

Not surprisingly, his reverie was cut short by Dean's quick return. The look on his brother's face was priceless. Dean was so _not_ a happy camper.

"That was fast." Sam struggled to keep any trace of a laugh from his voice. If he played this right, he could needle Dean and still maintain the current peace between them. The challenge was too enticing to pass up and, despite his protests to the contrary, Sam was as responsible as his brother for maintaining the discord between them. Twenty years of sibling rivalry doesn't just disappear overnight, even in the most well adjusted families; and no one would ever mistake the Winchester family as being normal, much less functional. It was one of life's little ironies that while either brother would die to save the other without hesitation, it was figuring out how to live with each other that presented them the greatest challenge.

"Not fast enough." groused his brother, picking up his coffee filled travel mug. "Let's get the hell outta here, Sam." With that, Dean turned and stomped out through the front door. Following behind, Sam snickered at his brother's behavior but then sobered as he contemplated the thought of the next few hundred miles traveling with a pissed off Dean. _Damn._

Getting into the car, Sam did a quick visual check of his brother and then settled himself into the passenger seat. No big surprise that Dean intended to stay behind the wheel; sometimes it seemed that the Impala was an extension of his brother. Dean barely glanced at him, pulling out of the lot onto the empty road as soon as Sam had shut his door. It wasn't until an hour or so later when Dean pulled over at another small filling station that Sam realized that they never did get gas at their earlier stop. Dean must have been upset to neglect his baby like that. _Crap. _

The next few hours Sam spent watching the scenery and sneaking quick glances at his brother. Something was off. Dean's music was playing, but he wasn't really listening. Instead, Dean was staring intently at the road, the wheel clenched tight in his hands.

Sam was puzzled by this abrupt change in his brother's demeanor and, when it didn't improve, decided to see what he could do to help Dean snap out it. The trick would be to get Dean to go along with the plan. Much easier said than done. But when Sam took a notion he tended to act on it, and Sam was tired of this quiet, closed off Dean.

Making a show of stretching and looking about, he turned to Dean and asked, "So where are we at? "


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry to take so long updating... Life keeps getting in the way... Pesky reality... LOL 

Chapter 2

Sam was a little surprised when it took three tries before he managed to get Dean's attention. Usually his brother was hyper aware of his surroundings and Sam was accustomed to Dean's frequent glances to check on up his kid brother. It had gotten old a long time ago, but Sam had learned that it was easier to ignore it than to try to get Dean to change. Sam could reach ninety years of age and Dean would still be the over protective big brother.

"Uh, what?", grunted Dean when he finally responded to Sam's exasperated, half shout of "Earth to Dean!".

"I said, 'So where are we at'", said Sam with exaggerated patience.

"Beats me. Look for a sign post. We're going to be on this route at least until sundown, so what's it matter?"

"It doesn't, I guess. But it's pretty dull scenery and I thought we could chew the fat a little to pass the time."

Dean looked over at Sam suspiciously before responding. "Chew the fat, eh? About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Anything, really. It's a long boring drive and I thought we could make it go a little faster by talking. To each other. You know, like normal people."

"And when the hell did we ever pass for normal?", snorted Dean. "But fine, you want to talk ... then talk."

"OK. ", Sam replied a bit unsurely. This wasn't quite going the way he had hoped but he gamely started up what quickly turned into a one sided conversation. Dean's grunts and occasional monosyllabic responses did nothing to keep their "talk" going and Sam finally gave up entirely when even that minuscule response dried up. Whatever was bothering Dean was still there and festering. But short of grabbing the wheel and forcing the car off the road, Sam was helpless to get to the bottom of things.

He'd wait until they stopped for the night. Pick up a pizza or bucket of fried chicken and a case of decent beer and then see if he could get Dean wasted enough to loosen up his tongue. It was a tactic that had succeeded in the past and might again if he worked it right. The trick was to keep Dean from suspecting anything was up. His defenses were impregnable if he felt he had something to hide. Impregnable, at least, until the meltdown came. And Sam really didn't want things to reach that point. It was hard on both of them and never really cleared the air, just let the other know where the minefield lay. But if Dean felt relaxed then he might let something slip that would give Sam a clue as to what was bothering his pigheaded brother.

Sam settled back in the seat and resumed staring at the monotonous scenery whizzing by as the hours passed.

Gripping the wheel tightly, Dean navigated the drive north on autopilot, his mind dwelling on the past. He was furious with himself for not being able to stop the flood of memories triggered by the stench of the decaying rodent in that sorry excuse of a restroom. Memories that he wanted to banish and ones that he definitely didn't want to share with Sam, who was surely wondering about his behavior since leaving the rest stop. _ Damn._

Dean had been unsettled when they stumbled upon the rats in the cellar of the so called "Hell House", but the need to concentrate on the hunt had helped him push the memories into the background where he hoped they would stay and then gradually fade away once more. And it had worked, at least until he encountered the stench, and that combined with the long, tedious drive caused him to vividly recall those terrible events that he had tried so hard to bury and forget.

Dean was no stranger to the smell of death. Hadn't been since his youth when he first helped his dad perform a routine salt and burn. In the years that followed, he had encountered death in so many shapes and forms, each with its own unique scent. The musty aroma of mouldering remains in a newly opened grave, or the faintly sweet smell of dusty, mummified bodies. And then there was the strong, stomach turning stench of rotting corpses in their various stages of decay and ruin. Dean had seen and smelled them all in the course of his work in the "family business". He would have thought himself immune to their effects by now.

Equally strange was the fact that Dean had never really had an issue with rats in his childhood. To the contrary, it was during one period when they were stuck in a particularly rundown roach motel so over run with vermin that John got his hands on a small caliber pistol with a silencer for Dean to use against the rats that routinely invaded their sleeping quarters without alarming the neighboring residents with gunshots. If the neighbors noticed anything it was the marked decrease in the rodent population during the Winchester's stay.

Dean's aim had always been good with any weapon; but that was the period when his aim with a pistol became deadly. While Sammy slept safe in bed, Dean devised all manner of traps and lures to bring the increasing wary varmints into his sights. His single minded determination to erradicate every rat that might threaten his little brother foreshadowed his intense dedication to the hunt. Honing his skills, developing stealth and quick reflexes as he hunted down the local rodent population, young Dean took this job as seriously as if he were hunting down a murderous spirit.

No. Rats, living or dead, weren't the cause of Dean's current distress. What had Dean's insides twisted in a knot were memories of the time after Sammy's abrupt departure from their lives. Things that happened shortly after that last bitter phone call to Sammy that went completely to hell. Words said in anger and hurt that effectively slammed shut the last door to communication between them. Sammy yelling at Dean to get out of his life and stay out, right before he slammed down the receiver. Dean hadn't had the nerve to call again and prove those words true. He spent countless hours picking up his phone and staring at Sam's number. Wanting so badly to call and make things right between them, but fearful that things were too far gone. Ultimately putting down the phone each time and hoping that if he didn't provoke him, Sam would eventually reach out to them through Pastor Jim or Bobby. Hoping for a call that never came.

Dad would swing over to Stanford whenever they were in the area to check up on Sam and make sure he was OK. Dean caught the occasional glimpse of his brother on campus making his way to classes or hanging out with friends. Friends who meant more to him than his own family. Dean would drink a little harder and manage to find a bar fight after those visits. Until John started taking those side trips to Stanford without Dean. The most fitting punishment of all.

Dean had long defined himself as John Winchester's right hand man... Sammy's big brother and protector. Without Sammy, without that job he had held for most of his life, Dean was adrift, trying to figure out who he was without Sam. The loss of Sam was as painful as the loss of their mom so long ago. The hole left behind was too big to be left unfilled... but nothing Dean found would fill that huge void. He had tried with Cassie; but that attempt to reach out to an outsider had blown up in his face and so he had retreated into a mode of reckless behavior that alarmed John and was partly responsible for his dad's decision to agree to Caleb's request for help on a particularly troublesome case and relegated Dean to doing the research for their next hunt. So while John and Caleb headed to Ohio, Dean was stuck in a small new England mill town that had been experiencing a rash of unexplained disappearances; his job - to discover if there was a pattern and possible supernatural cause.

Dean chaffed at being denied the opportunity to do violence, but was honest enough to recognize that he had been acting like a loose cannon lately and knew that the job was dangerous enough without his acting like an idiot. Once again he felt that he was a pathetic screw up who let down the very people he cared about the most. If only he could figure out how to get his head put back straight again.

It was during that messed up period when Dean thought that things just couldn't get any worse, when, of course, Murphy's Law had to rear its ugly head to prove him wrong once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Just a head's up that there will eventually be references to some of life's more unsavory facets. Rating is Teen... my best guess. If I'm mistaken I hope someone will set me straight. Thanks for the reviews... spurs me into action... lol Who says guilt can't be a great motivator.

Chapter 3

September, 2004

The third week of September found Dean Winchester in Allston Falls, Massachusetts - a decaying old mill town with no future - much like himself, he felt.

His dad had no sooner returned from checking up on Sammy at Stanford, then they headed off to New England to check out a possible hunt. The days were getting cooler, but it was still weeks away from the vibrant fall colors that would lure tourists from all over the country to the various rustic towns scattered throughout the area.

Well, towns, that is, other than Allston Falls with its dilapidated century old factories and squalid company houses all jammed together tightly in the narrow, crooked valley with its single stream that was no longer needed to provide power for the defunct textile mills and now so degraded as to longer provide a decent home for any self respecting fish. Not much hope for setting up a tourist industry here in this poor little town, unkindly treated by time and offering up little hope to the few remaining local folks that managed to eke out a meager living; most commuting to modest paying jobs far from home.

Dean was supposed to be doing the background research on a rash of disappearances that took place the previous year in the early part of October. No bodies were ever found and they were still listed as missing persons; but, prior to the disappearances, some of the young people involved had been messing around the local cemetery as a prank, so it was possible that a reawakened spirit could be responsible. But nothing Dean had dug up so far in the local library or newspaper archives gave any suggestion of that being the case.

This whole job was a bust as far as Dean was concerned, but he also knew that he had better not leave any stone unturned, or his ass was grass. John Winchester did not tolerate shoddy work and wouldn't hesitate to tear him a new one if he felt that his eldest had slacked off. Dean was on punishment detail and he knew it, starting with his being left behind to clean up their gear and restock their arsenal while John went to check up on Sammy.

Dean remembered the look in his dad's eyes last month when he dragged his sorry ass back into the motel room after taking on the town bully and his pals in that lousy dive and whipping their butts fair and square. Of course, they got their licks in too. So, in addition to the usual cuts and bruises, he had a cracked rib to show for his efforts, hence his dad's decision to leave Dean behind while he went west to check on Sammy. If he had been more seriously injured, Dean suspected that John would have dumped him off at Pastor Jim's or Bobby's place. _How humiliating_.

The rib was pretty well healed by now and Dean fit enough to handle full workouts, but his dad kept giving him these looks. Never said anything, but the looks made Dean want to crawl under a rock. He really screwed up, getting himself hurt that way. A hunter needed to sharp and fit to do the job right. His dad didn't need a liability on his hands, he needed someone he could count on to be there to back him up. Instead he had a jackass of a son who couldn't keep his nose out of trouble. Yeah, those yahoos had it coming to them, but Dean knew he had been itching for a fight and welcomed the chance to knock them down a peg. If those guys hadn't been harassing that poor girl, Dean would have found a fight somewhere else and he knew it. And so did his dad.

Just as no one knew his dad as well as he did, so did John know his eldest son. If only the same could be said about his dad and Sammy. How Dean wished that things had been better between them. Instead he had spent four fruitless years trying to patch together the ever widening chasm between them. Trying everything in his power to keep what little family he had in one piece... And failing miserably. Until it finally just fell apart in that one awful fight when words were said that neither Winchester could find a way to forgive.

Dean had originally hoped that some time away would bring Sammy back to his senses. Would make him realize that he needed his family. But no, Sammy found himself a new life, new friends and there wasn't any place in that new world for the likes of him. He had managed to maintain a somewhat civil communication with his brother for the first two years, hoping to keep at least one bridge unburned.

But last winter when he had practically begged Sam to at least join them for the summer after his sophomore year, Sam had been so dead set against it that Dean had snapped. Hurt by the further rejection, Dean had lost his temper and when it ended there was no going back. They had both said things... Terrible things that were meant to hurt. And still hurt all these months later. It was Dean's attempts to numb the pain with booze and fighting that landed him in this new mess with his dad. _God, he was such a loser. No_ _wonder no one wanted him around_.

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It was early the second day after leaving Dean to research the disappearances and John had been on the road since 8 AM, after a hasty breakfast that consisted mostly of strong black coffee and as much of the greasy scrambled eggs as he could stomach. The food hadn't been good, but it was fuel and would keep his energy up for the long drive he still had ahead of him.

As John Winchester sped west to meet up with Caleb, his mind wasn't on the upcoming hunt. John trusted that Caleb would have the job well planned out and just be waiting upon his arrival, so his mind was free to wander. And when John Winchester wasn't absorbed in research or a hunt, his thoughts revolved around his boys.

Sam had just started his junior year at Stanford ... in both his freshman and sophomore years the kid had passed every course with flying colors and was able now to live off campus year round, not just summers. John was prouder than punch at Sam's achievements, even as he resented the boy's defiance of his authority and regretted the constant battle of wills between them that had finally ended in their current estrangement. In his more honest moments of self assessment, John admitted to himself that he and his youngest were cut from the same cloth. He wondered how things would have turned out, had Mary lived and their lives been untouched by evil.

John had observed from a discreet distance as usual and noted that the young coed he had seen with Sam the previous year was now a constant presence in his son's life. With her blonde hair and cheerful demeanor, John couldn't help but think of Sam's deceased mother. John's heart ached as memories rushed back and he was glad that he had left Dean behind on this trip. Dean would have noticed the resemblance immediately and gone into an even deeper funk than he had the last time they had visited the campus to check on his kid brother.

Dean had always been such a solid support during all the years it was just the three of them wandering about the country; John couldn't understand what was going on in the kid's head these days. John knew that Dean deeply missed Sammy and the silent hurt that never left his eyes after Sam stormed out of their lives sent daggers of guilt through him.

After Mary's death, four year old Dean had retreated behind a wall of silence. Twenty four year old Dean had not completely lost his tongue; but he never talked about his mother, their old home in Lawrence or much of anything beyond the needs of the immediate hunt or the mundane details of life on the road. And now Sam was being added to the list of off limit topics.

John hoped that giving Dean some time alone would help him sort things out. He wished he had some sure way of helping Dean through this, but he was working blind here. Things had always been so smooth with Dean. Even during the worst moments of his adolescence, Dean had kept a pretty level head on his shoulders. John had always been able to rely on his eldest and he found it bewildering to see Dean behave so erratically. Sam had always been at the center of Dean's world and the longer Sam was gone, the more off center Dean became. John, too, deeply missed his youngest, but he could see no way to mend the rift between them.

John honestly didn't understand why or how it came about that he and Sammy spent so much time at each other's throats. It seemed so obvious to John that evil was out there. Evil that had touched their family as well as so many others. How could they ignore the problem. It wasn't like there was anything that the usual authorities could do. Hell, they didn't even know what was out there. Only those few that had been exposed and somehow survived ended up as hunters; and not even all of them had what it took.

It was a guerilla war out there and survival was not guaranteed. At the start of his hunting career, John had naively believed that he could track down Mary's killer and return to a normal life. Now almost twenty years had passed since that dreadful night, and John's search was still fruitless. His little boys were now grown men, their childhoods sacrificed on the alter of ... what? Revenge? Noble cause? Safety? What?

John deeply loved both his sons and wanted only the best for them. But their mother's unnatural death in Sammy's nursery had set them on a far different path than he could have ever imagined back in those days. Two decades later, John was both sadder and wiser. His years of research have given him some clues as to the nature of the evil thing that had blighted their lives and it scared him deeply. Whatever the thing was, John knew that it was most likely after his youngest child and wouldn't stop until it obtained whatever it was that it wanted from him. John kept this knowledge from both his boys; he could be wrong about the details and didn't want to risk destroying his family with unfounded fear and suspicion. _Yeah, see how well that worked_.

John ruefully shook his head as he contemplated the fact that his family was already torn asunder and he saw no ready resolution to their internal conflict. He'd help Caleb with this hunt and then get back to Allston Falls, if Dean found anything that looked like their line of business. Otherwise he would head over to Pennsylvania where he had been contacted about a situation where either an angry spirit or possibly a poltergeist was plaguing a family home. The family had taken his advice and were staying with relatives until the problem was resolved. He would meet up with Dean there.

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Dean thought about returning to the library for all of five minutes before deciding that while his geek brother might find some slender clue he had missed, he was certain that there really wasn't anything there to find. He'd do better to interview friends and relatives, posing as someone also looking for a missing person. Get them talking and see if he could spot a pattern. His gut was telling him that the disappearances were mundane rather than of supernatural origin. With any luck, the kids took off for greener pastures; but he conceded that there could be a murderous sicko out there. In Dean's experience people could be every bit as nasty as any supernatural monster he had yet encountered.

Taking his list of missing kids, Dean went in search of a phone book to see how many local addresses he could find. Start close to home and then spread the search farther afield if needed. When Dad called to check up that night, Dean planned to have some good answers ready. He would redeem himself in his dad's eyes if it was the last thing he did.


	4. Chapter 4

I've been enjoying the new episodes ... plenty of angst to go around. For those who've asked, this is a background speculation concerning an event in the first season. So the boys will still be in their first season mode at the end of this little tale.

After all, I promised Kripke I'd put them back the way I found them when I was done playing.

My apologies if the pacing of this story is not speeding along... but the character of Dean has spent his entire life coping with danger and stressful situations, so when he reacts to something as mundane as flying or encountering rats... it makes one wonder what it is about those things that brings him to the edge of his control.

Chapter 4

Dean spent most of the day interviewing the locals and was pretty well satisfied that there was no job here for hunters. At least not for hunters of supernatural evil things such as himself. Of the half dozen missing individuals, only two had actually been involved with the cemetery escapade; and it seemed that the local kids regularly used a vacant back section of the grounds as their private little drinking and partying hangout. Checking county records to see if there had ever been any interments in that section came up with a big fat zero. Plus there were dozens of equally guilty teens that were still present and accounted for and running out and about in town. Their first impression that it might be a newly awakened, restless spirit wasn't panning out.

Further digging revealed that none of the other four missing individuals had any connections to anything even remotely occult. In fact, two of the remaining four were a romantically involved couple with very disapproving parents. Since they were close to legal age, more than one person that Dean spoke with was of the opinion that the kids had probably decided to run off together. It happens.

Returning to the motel later that afternoon, it was one very exasperated young hunter that decided it was time to start packing up their stuff. Making sure that his cell phone was fully charged and his weapons properly secured, Dean tossed everything else from the room into the trunk of the car. Long practiced in packing up and policing a room, the task had taken only moments to perform and now Dean was left with several empty hours to fill until his dad called in to check on his progress.

This job had been such a dud that he had actually had time earlier to catch up on laundry detail, that unloved chore that always seemed to get pushed aside until there was really no choice left. It was either wash the damn things or perform an exorcism on them. While most of the clothes had been fairly rank, there had been a few items that could have still passed muster and served as a valid reason to avoid that onerous task... if there had been anything at all worth doing instead. _But no such luck in this dump of a town._

It's a pretty pathetic state of affairs when doing the wash was the most useful thing he had managed to accomplish on a job; so Dean saw no value to hanging around this loser of a town any longer than he absolutely had to.The young hunter was frustrated and chaffed at his enforced inaction.

Unfortunately, his dad expected him to stay put for now and Dean was so not willing to piss him off any more than he already had. But if his dad agreed with his assessment of the situation, then maybe he'd be able to make the drive to Ohio and join them for the hunt after all. Dean wanted out of there so badly that he wasn't risking any kind of delay if his dad gave him the go ahead to put this place in his rear view mirror. _Oh, no. No way, Jose._

So their clothes were washed, packed and loaded in the car along with the rest of their gear and now there was nothing really left to do but await his dad's call. Dean settled himself on the bed and turned on the tv in hopes of finding something worth watching.

It was just a little after 7 pm when John called and satisfied himself that Dean was most likely correct in his assessment. Disappearances were always hit or miss jobs, but they had an obligation to check them out just to be sure. He deflected Dean's offer to join them. John was still concerned about his son's state of mind and really wanted Dean to relax and enjoy some down time. Minus the fights, that is. So John reminded Dean that their next job was in Pennsylvania and that if it turned out to be a poltergeist, they definitely needed to be in top form for the job. It was a compelling argument and Dean conceded the point, though he was clearly unhappy about it.

Hoping to smooth things over, John offered that with any luck at all the job in Ohio should be over that night and he'd be able to leave tomorrow afternoon to join Dean for their next gig and then gave him the address and phone number for the family in Pennsylvania where their next job was going to be.

Though the new job was equidistant from both hunters, Dean could leave first thing in the morning and be able to meet up with the family and check out the latest details of the situation while John got some much needed rest. They could meet up there after Dean contacted the home owner. The poor guy was so grateful for even the hope of being rid of his "problem", that he had offered up front to rent them a room in town and cover their expenses without a second thought. A very pleasant change from their normal routine of credit card scamming.

With nothing to do until the morning, Dean decided that there was no way he wanted to hang around the motel room. The room was way too quiet and empty. Quiet and empty made his skin crawl, so he made his way over to the one semi interesting establishment in town that just happened to be a combination bar, restaurant and pool hall. Not wanting to push his luck, Dean had avoided the place earlier; but now he figured that a few beers and maybe a game or two of pool would be an OK way to pass the time. No way was he going to let anyone or anything provoke him into a fight. Not when he'd be meeting up with dad shortly. He could manage to stay out of trouble for one night.

Being the middle of the week, the place was fairly empty once the kitchen closed. Fortunately Dean had arrived while they were still serving and decided to splurge on a thick juicy steak with all the trimmings after seeing that most of the other diners had ordered the evening's steak special and it certainly did look good. It tasted as good as it looked, which went a long way towards improving Dean's opinion of the place. Maybe his luck was improving.

Taking his beer over to one of the empty pool tables, Dean played a couple of solo rounds. No chance of hustling if he couldn't even find any other players much less an opponent. Heck, there wasn't even a single spectator and Dean found his own interest in playing waning by the minute. Having finished both the solitary game and his beer, Dean wandered over to the bar to get another.

With only a handful of patrons at the impressively long, polished bar... an obvious relic of better times... Dean didn't have to wait for service. The bartender was young woman named Stacy that, while not what Dean would refer to as "hot", was certainly pleasant enough and willing to chat with him as she tended the bar.

Dean enjoyed joking and bantering with Stacy; she was smart and witty and so totally wasted being stuck here in nowheresville, this dead end town that hadn't quite finished dying. She, in turn, appreciated the attention of the good looking young stranger with the infectious smile and teasing manner. It added a bit of spice chatting with someone you hadn't known your entire life.

By the fourth shot and beer chaser, Dean was feeling fairly mellow and curious about how this intriguing young woman ended up here in this town he couldn't wait to leave. Before she knew it, Stacy was telling this total stranger her life story. How she was forced to leave college because of family problems. This place had been owned by her family for three generations, but a few years back her dad suffered a debilitating stroke and now was confined to his bed. Her mom was left to care for both her husband and the family business and it was just too much for her.

So now Stacy runs the bar and helps in the kitchen when she has to... by the way, he can thank her mom for the great meal he had. When not caring for her invalid husband, Stacy's mom could be found in the kitchen whipping up culinary wonders. The woman loved to cook and her time spent preparing meals buoyed her spirits and helped her keep her sanity.

Her younger brother, Billy, was the family rebel who ran off years ago to "find himself", whatever the hell that meant, and she hasn't heard from him since the Christmas after their dad's stroke. " How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!", she laughed bitterly. "Who knew that instead of graduating with a degree in literature, I'd end up instead as a character in a badly written play."

"This place makes just enough money so that we can get by. But we'd never get enough from selling it to pull up roots and make a new start somewhere else.", she said with a rueful shake of her head. "I'm trapped here until either times improve or my folks pass away, and isn't that just a peachy state of affairs... Damn him all to hell! I hope he's happy out there. Because my life is on hold. It had damn well better have been worth it!"

Her words struck a chord deep in Dean and he quickly downed his beer and ordered another round before continuing their conversation.

"You know... a college degree isn't all it's cracked up to be. Even without a degree, you'd make a good counselor. You know how to listen and you've been there, so you can relate. There are things out there that you'll never learn out of a book or by sitting in a safe little class room listening to some guy who's never walked the walk. I bet you could take those online courses and ace whatever you took. You're smart and I think you have more options that you think right now. You just need to think outside the box."

Stacy smiled at Dean's efforts to cheer her up, a stranger that she'd likely never see again. Trying to help her find a way to turn her lemon of a life into lemonade. _How sweet._

"What about you?", She asked. "A good looking guy like you." Dean smiled at that. "Surely you've got something better going on than hanging out in this dead end town."

"Well, see... Me and my dad, we're private investigators... He sent me here to check into those disappearances that happened last fall. We thought it might tie into a case we're working. Cover more ground that way. It was a long shot, but there's always the chance that we might find something. If I had found something promising, then I'd give him a call and we'd check it out.

"So you were scouting the area? You do know that the local cops have already been all over looking for those poor kids. Tore the town and county upside down."

"Yeah, well, we're good at what we do. A fresh pair of eyes can sometimes pick up something overlooked earlier. But we wouldn't know one way or the other until I'd finished checking things out. You follow what leads you can... they can end up being a bust or it could be we'd find something. Either way, it's our job and we know what we're doing. Save a lot of people doing it."

"I take it you didn't find anything and you'll be leaving first thing in the morning.", Stacy laughed and was first inclined to pass the whole thing off as showing off, part of some act to impress her... but then a second look at him... his eyes... and she didn't doubt for a minute that this young man was sincere. _Wow._

Stacy saw a lot of people and got a good look at the side that most folks kept hidden away, usually because it wasn't something that they were proud of or that others would approve of. But this young man was that rare case of role reversal. The face he showed the world was cocky and even a bit arrogant, but behind it was something else. Something that she wouldn't mind investigating on her own time, but just her luck that he wouldn't be hanging around long enough for her to check him out. _Damn!_

Before she could explore that thought any further, three laughing young men sat down at the far end of the bar and called out their orders to her. Stacy left Dean to start drawing three drafts for them and Dean noticed that the place had started filling up during their chat with small groups of young men and the occasional gal trickling in. As the sole watering hole in town, it was either join up with friends here or stay at home and drink in front of the boob tube.

A small group was congregating by the pool tables and Dean decided to see if he could get in a friendly game, seeing as Stacy was going to be too busy to spend much time with a single customer. He was mildly disappointed but it came with the territory, so he moved on.

Standing off to the side, Dean sipped his beer and watched as several guys bungled their way through a game. Half the balls were still on the table in the time it had taken Dean to clear it completely earlier that evening. No way he was mixing in with these poor jokers. he didn't mind hustling at pool, but this would have been downright cruel... like taking candy from a little kid. He had enough cash plus an unused credit card, so he wasn't hurting for dough, and could afford to take the high road this time.

Finally finished with his beer... which was more than he could say for the guys and their game, Dean turned to go back to the bar for another when a voice suddenly rang out.

"Dean? Dean Winchester? Is it really you?"


	5. Chapter 5

I am sooooooo slow in getting this thing finished.

Winter just sucks out here in western New York and I am ever so ready for spring to finally get here. Anyway, I'm going to post this chapter come hell or high water... So don't be surprised if I end up fixing it before I get Chapter 6 done. Especially after you folks get done pointing out any goofs I've missed.

And you're correct, Sphinxcat - I've spent a good part of this afternoon trying to teach a day old calf that drinking from a bottle instead of mom is a good thing. They get hungry enough, they start to see reason... lol.

Chapter 5

Hearing his name called out, a puzzled Dean halted in his tracks and turned to see who could possibly be calling out to him. He had never been to this area before now, yet the caller definitely sounded as if they knew him and fairly well at that.

The voice was unfamiliar, and was most definitely feminine. Could it be an old fling or some past one night stand? But he rarely, if ever, used his real name in those circumstances. At least it sounded as if the caller was happy to see him, so he peered back into the pool room to see who was calling his name.

Making her way through the groups of onlookers, a smiling young woman... "_No, not old enough. Make that a girl_', Dean realized... approached him, her grin getting larger as she got closer until it seemed that she could hardly contain her joy at seeing him. Dean was completely mystified because he had no idea as to her identity. The thick layer of makeup didn't help, but Dean usually at least remembered faces, if not the names of most of the people he met over the years. This one had him stumped and he found that annoying.

"Excuse me", he started, but before he could say anything more he was cut off as the girl threw her arms around him in a giant hug.

"Oh my God! Dean Winchester! I never expected to ever see you again, Dean! Not in a million years." The girl released Dean from her bear hug and stepped back a few steps when she realized that her enthusiastic greeting was not being returned. Her smile shifted to a look of surprise. "Dean? It's me...Cindy... Cindy Cook. Remember? Rushford Central School.. My brother Todd and Sam were best friends...", her voice faltered and started to fall off as it became clear that Dean was struggling to place her.

Suddenly the pieces fell together and Dean grinned back at her. No wonder he couldn't place her, she must have been all of ten or eleven when the Winchesters had spent most that school year based out of a small rental house in rural Minnesota. Memories of the place came rushing back to him even as he grabbed her up and gave her a belated bear hug in return.

_1998..._

The area was centrally located to a number of jobs that John had lined up that year. Dean was actively hunting with his dad by then and, at fifteen, Sam was an awkward and gawky teen not physically co-ordinated enough to be safe on a hunt but old enough to remain behind on his own or stay with friends for a weekend. In this case, Sam had bonded with a soccer playing classmate who also loved martial arts and John had used his charm to persuade their widowed mother to "babysit" his youngest for a modest fee... mostly to cover the expense of feeding the growing kid with his bottomless pit of a stomach... while he and Dean took care of out of town "business". It had worked well in that respect and Sam was able to do research for their hunts while also attending classes just like any other school age kid. Sam had been thrilled at the prospect of living a "normal" life and Dean had hoped it would work out for him.

John continued to insist that Sam train along with Dean, and for once Sam actually was an enthusiastic participant, if only because he would immediately go over to Todd's house and teach him the new moves he had just learned. They would practice together for hours and play video games or music. Sam had found himself a friend and he hung out with Todd as much as possible.

Observing Sam and Todd, John vainly hoped that Sam truly understood that this stay in one town, one place, was temporary and that next year they would be back on the road as before. He wanted to remind Sam of that fact, but he also harbored a massive amount of guilt over depriving the kid of so much over the years and just couldn't bring himself to burst Sam's bubble of happiness. Or have to deal with Sam's reactions to the situation. Sam's adolescence was a far more turbulent affair than Dean's bout with puberty and John was uncertain how to cope with the mood swings and growing rebelliousness.

Unlike his older brother who had experienced the devastation of losing their mother and understood the situation, Sam had been shielded from the truth for as long as possible. While meant as a kindness, John had slowly come to realize that he had done the boy no favors in his efforts to protect him. Things had ending up backfiring in his face as Sam figured things out on his own and became more and more resentful.

While John had always managed to maintain control over Dean with a sharp word or look, the same methods just seemed to incite Sam to even further heights of rebellion. John was on uncertain ground and pretty much at a loss on how to handle the kid. Though too late to go back and correct his mistakes, John had hoped to repair some of the damage by making a peace offering to the boy. Give him some semblance of stability, at least during the school term, to offset the rigors of training and hunting during the remainder of the year.

It had seemed like a pretty good deal to Dean. Definitely better than the one he had ended up with. But no, Sam continued to fuss about the family business, and his resentment and rebellion increased steadily. Any pride in his son's achievements was overshadowed by John's anger and frustration, so it seemed that the only way that father and son could interact was with voices raised and tempers flaring. Leaving an increasing distraught Dean to put up a stoic front as he tried to act as buffer and peacemaker.

In the midst of this seesaw of family strife was the Cook family. A nice family that the previous year had lost Mr. Cook to some freakish medical condition that had struck out of the blue, leaving behind a too young widow ill equipped to fend for herself. Dean watched in silent bemusement as Mrs. Cook tried flirting with his dad only to finally resign herself to the realization that John Winchester wore his wedding ring because he was still in love with his deceased wife and would probably never even considered remarrying. It was a welcome relief when a local businessman started asking her out. Sam was still welcome to go over, but the pressure was off on trying to deflect her questions about John and what he did for a living.

Todd and Sam were kindred spirits beyond loving soccer ... each did well in school and dreamed of entering college. Todd's goal was to get his degree and find a good paying job that would enable him to support his family. Sam dreamed of finding a way to escape the insanity of their lives if his father and brother wouldn't see that nothing they did would restore the past... bring back his mom, the stranger that obsessed their lives. He didn't doubt that Mary Winchester had been a good person and worthy of their love; but this obsession with avenging her death was crazy and he had no intention of being sucked down into it.

Todd's little sister, Cindy, was barely eleven and had a major crush on nineteen year old Dean. She'd hang around Sam in hopes of seeing his brother show up. The sight of Dean driving up in the Impala was the highlight of her day and she would shyly hang on his every word and action. Dean had to admit that he did enjoy the attention, even if it did seem to be a pretty silly and harmless infatuation. Especially when Sam seemed as likely to lash out at him as he was their dad. Sometimes it seemed that Cindy's was the only smile Dean would receive in the course of a week, when tempers were frayed and Dean was on the receiving end from both sides.

Dean refused to feel sorry for himself, but he had to admit that there were plenty of times when his spirits really dragged and he had to drive over to the neighboring county to find himself some "fun" before he lost his cool and opened up a third front on the Winchester battleground. Then were would they be? ... up a creek without a paddle - if they were lucky.

As it was, both Sam and his dad expected so much from him and he didn't have any idea how to meet their expectations. He was already doing his best to become a skilled hunter and help his dad rid the world of as much evil as possible. Plus he did what he could to smooth things over for Sammy, but it never seemed that he could do enough to satisfy the brat. Somehow his little brother had turned into this self centered, demanding person that wouldn't accept his place in the family order. Someone who felt that the family business should be abandoned in favor of living some safe, normal life. That it was okay to know about the evil that was out there and stand back and do nothing. How had that happened? Where had they gone wrong in failing to instill in Sam the certainty that theirs was the good fight, the good cause that was worth the sacrifices they had made all these years. Maybe Dad's quest had started out as seeking revenge, but Dean knew that it went far beyond that now. Had been so for a long time.

Dean also knew that his dad was an unsung hero. Knew that if he followed along, he too would save people from the same type of horror that he had endured that dreadful night when his peaceful, happy world was taken away in flames. Dean had slowly replaced his earlier childhood dreams of being a fearless fireman with the realization that he was destined to become a hunter just as his dad had done. As he had been forced to do by the nameless evil that had destroyed their old life. A hunter who lived on the outskirts of society, his vehicle the closest he would come to having a home and bearing the knowledge that normal would never again be his lot in life. It was the Winchester legacy, compliments of the evil thing that took his mom from them.

2003...

Dean released Cindy from his hug and looked her up and down. He didn't care for what he saw, though he did his best not to let it show. Face thin and drawn, wearing way too much makeup, she looked more like some hooker than the young girl he knew her to be, with eyes that were sad and had seen too much in her short life.

"I saw your car this afternoon. Looks just like I remembered it, though I didn't realize it was really you. Started me thinking about you... Should have known it was really you... That you were here. But I just saw it for a sec... " Her words were out coming out fast and a little slurred. Dean wasn't sure if she was just drunk or if she might be high on something, but whatever it was, she was vastly different from the young girl that Dean remembered.

Dean was sure that she is still way under 18... jail bait, and couldn't fathom what could have happened to her in the five or so years since his family left Rushford, but he was going to find out. Leading her over to an empty table near the bar, Dean sat her down and went to the bar to get a beer for himself and a soft drink for her. At Stacy's look, he shrugged and said, "Small world. Go figure. I knew her brother back in school.", before returning to the table with the drinks.

Setting down their drinks, Dean took a seat across from the girl and started up a conversation. Keeping her talking about that year spent in Rushford, Dean gently probed for hints about what happened after he and his family pulled up stakes and left town. It seemed that her mom had eventually married Frank, the guy she started dating back in 1998. But he wasn't really in the picture too much at that time and Dean had barely a memory of the guy. He was just some guy in a suit seen in passing and ignored by a young man who had better things on his mind... like the hot chick that worked at the video store and wore outfits that hid few of her assets. Dean did recall that Todd and Cindy hadn't cared much for him, especially since it was so soon after losing their dad; but he behaved like a gentleman while he was dating their mom and she had been so happy to have found a suitor.

Cindy fell silent, so Dean started telling her about Sam. How he managed to get into Stanford on scholarship and how tall he had finally ended up, which lead to them sharing a funny stories as she remembered Sam's growth spurt that had him outgrowing his clothes at a ridiculous pace and soon had him towering over his classmates and more than few teachers, earning him any number of nicknames. The most humorous tales revolved around the fact that Sam's arms, legs and feet each grew at their own pace which made it next to impossible for the kid to move with any grace, despite his workouts and training. The more he struggled to control his unruly body, the more frustrated the kid became. For much of that year, Dean joked, it seemed that Sam couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time, which had his desired result of sending Cindy into peals of laughter at the memories. As she laughed, Dean could see the years melt away and was thankful to see that not all traces of the young girl he had known had vanished.

"So, what's Todd up to these days?", asked Dean. The last thing Dean expected at that point was to see the tears that welled up in Cindy's eyes before she angrily brushed them away. "Heh, Cindy I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

Cindy just shook her head, unable to speak. Dean took her hand gently into his and just held them until she regained some composure. Finally she started to speak and her story started rushing out in a flood of words and tears.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Against my better judgment, I'm going to end this chapter here. I just really need to move this sucker forward and the poor brain is in gridlock. I'm hoping that once I get into the next chapter, I'll have things figured out a bit better and can resolve this chapter in a more fitting way. Thank you all for your patience.


End file.
